


Now I see the stars alright – I wanna reach right up

by TotemundTabu



Series: 30 THROBB SMUTS [23]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bottom Theon Greyjoy, Cheesy, Dom Robb Stark, Eventual Smut, First Time, Foreign Exchange Student, Guns N' Roses References, Horny Teenagers, Jealousy, M/M, Music, Mutual Pining, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Secret Messages, Sub Theon Greyjoy, Teenagers, Top Robb Stark, theon sleeps around a lot, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 12:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15509628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: Prompt: Throbb - Theon is a foreign exchange student going to stay with the Stark family for his senior year! Robb falls in love and is very Jealous !





	Now I see the stars alright – I wanna reach right up

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set a bit beyond, like … 2005, when CD portable players were a thing but the internet was less used by teens and, god, looking online about sex was a bit rarer. Robb is 16, Theon 18 – I tried to keep a minimum of the age gap for the prompt but not make it too big.   
> If this age gap squicks you, I understand it perfectly.   
> Note that Robb is lustful also because *I* at 16 was. I’m not implying all 16 yo are like that.   
> All the lyrics are from Guns N’ Roses, which is why Theon has a bandanna (brrr) and the “cross CD” is Appetite for Destruction, from track 7 ;) . The title is also my GNR.  
> Originally, when there is a line in italics it was supposed to be in French, but it seemed to me too heavy and it would have had huge bottom notes, so I left the italics for both French and lyrics quotes.  
> Thank you anon for the prompt!

Jealousy burnt through him, a low green flame.

And it turned him to stone.

Theon smirked, smug, at the girl, caressing her hair, playing and wrapping a curl around his finger.

Robb groaned, feeling his own heart twisted around that hand.

It made him nauseated.

That summer was going to be the worst he had ever lived, he just knew.

Damn him and his gay ass getting crushes on pretty straight boys.

 

* * *

 

 

**Now I see the stars alright – I wanna reach right up**

 

* * *

 

 

Between all the things Robb’s family may have needed, another person under the roof was not really high on the ‘top ten unstoppable desires’ list.

Robb had four siblings and their cousin Jon already lived with them by then. 

But his father was a history teacher at the Catholic Institute of Saint Anne, of David's house and line, mother of the Holy Virgin Mary, which, usually just came with beautiful benefits like long summer holidays that allowed the family to connect more or his mother to focus on her own political career without having to worry about coming home to prepare dinner for the army of children.

That summer it came at the price of Robb’s mental sanity.

Robb had … suspicions about his own sexuality.

Let’s admit him never liking a girl and never having come out of the “boobs are weird” phase should have been a big hint, but the fact that gym lessons had become  _distracting_ whenever in summer his classmates were wearing shorts, or whenever one of them took off his shirt, sealed away every doubt he could have had.

Robb liked boys. A lot.

But one thing was his eyes lingering on an inch of exposed skin of a hip for too long, or his jaw clenching when a boy’s lips were close to his, and another wanting to date someone specific. And, well, boys his age weren’t exactly the most mature beings on the planet.

If he wanted to spend time with someone who found farts hilarious he would have babysat his youngest brother.

He wanted someone older, charming, romantic, with an attitude. And a leather jacket.

Leather jackets were an important factor.

Basically, he was doing fine, he was gay, as horny as every damn sixteen year old could be, but he was not head over heels, suffering for some straight guy. Yet.

And then he did the stupidest thing ever and yet his most dramatic and typical character flaw: he tried to help someone.

His father was groaning and grumbling in the kitchen in front of his telephone book, trying to find someone, while he kept drumming his fingers over the mint-green landline with his other hand, hoping to maybe find inspiration in those desperate times.

The smallest ones had all hit the hay, but Sansa was watching Ghost for the umpteenth time because, for some reason, the idea of a woman kissing an ectoplasm shaped like Swayze was the most romantic thing she could think of.

Robb stood up from the couch and moved to his father, worried.

“Everything alright?”

“It’s the new exchange. The class the saint James selected has one extra boy, but I can’t find a family that would house him.”

Robb shrugged, confused.

“Let him come here.”

“Uh?”

“Well, Jon and I can sleep in my room, we have the sleeping bag from camping.”

Ned mumbled, considering it.

“Maybe but… how is your French?”

Robb let out a low groan. His French was… better than Jon’s, but sure not the best it could be.

Sansa then turned to them, “Mine is fine. In case he needs help, I can try.”

Ned then nodded, “Fine, I suppose he can stay here. - he smiled – But you’ll have to help him if he wants to see his classmates off school activities and such.”

“No problem. - Robb smiled, he could take care of some middle school kid, he had younger brothers, that was going to be easy – I’ll be a great host.”

And he was sure he was going to be.

To a twelve year old freshman.

Not an eighteen year old delight, one meter eighty, dark-haired, knee-melter with eyes like a storm, and a flashing smile that turned his voice to a shapeless puddle of “oh”s, “hi”s and “uhm”s.

For that he was not prepared.

He hadn’t thought it could have happened.

He had a smug smirk, that type of cocky smile that stirs your stomach and makes it sink down.

And he had those curls that turn on the face like ink and stain the sky with ruffled perfection. Big lipped, promising soft kisses, big jaw, promising he could tear Robb apart. 

Wide shoulders, slim, slender frame, tall. He was a dream.

A wet one.

Robb was sure lust was transparent, evident in his eyes.

The guy let out a chuckle, and spoke. He had the lowest voice – dirty, raw honeyed stirred with liquid darkness, heat pooled through his heart – with a mocking razor edge and a thick French accent.

“Mister Stark told me you’ll be my guide here.”

Robb hesitated, nodded, panicked. He cursed his French.

“ _I, uh, I am so happy you’re here_.”

The boy smiled, no doubt finding his accent terrible.

A chuckle, “ _I’m Theon._ ”

“Robb.”

“Robb. - he repeated, thick-accent soft and silky on his tempting lips – That’s cute.”

Ned gave a small smile and handed Robb one of Theon’s suitcases, “Show him the room and the house, please, I’ll have to go to work soon and then pick up Sansa and Arya from ballet.”

Theon blinked, following Ned’s lips as if he were trying to understand what he was saying.

“No problem. - Robb let out a tense smile – We, uh, we can pass by somewhere to grab something for dinner, if you want.”

Ned weighted it down with a hum, then mumbled, “Get some fish-supper.”

Theon frowned.

Robb blinked, “Uh. Fish and chips.”

Theon’s nostril gave a small, wincing twitch.

Robb sucked his lips not to laugh, “They have salt and vinegar chips. It’s yummy.”

Ned put on the coat again, ignoring them both, “Please, remember, Bran has to finish his homework and Rickon can’t drink any juice before dinner.”

Theon frowned again, then looked around.

Robb bowed, trying to grab all his luggage. Three months, three suitcases. 

Did they not have washing machines in France?

He glanced at him again.

His eyes glazed over the firm, tight butt, framed perfectly by tight, black jeans. He had a white shirt on, tucked in, that tensed up, looking almost careless in its precision, and above all, a leather jacket. He was wearing a sea foam green bandanna and sunglasses over it.

Sunglasses. For Scotland.

It was weird, but he couldn’t judge: the whole attire had him more than interested and, damn, leather jackets were really a weakness of his.

Theon’s butt moved.

And Robb flinched, before seeing that Theon had turned towards him and was looking at him.

His eyes. They were the colour of the sea too.

He blinked, enchanted.

Theon’s upper lip twitched.

“ _You’re staring._ ”, a grin, then a word Robb didn’t grasp.

“Ha, uh, hm. - Robb tried to stand up and almost tripped over the luggage, just to the find his equilibrium again with a ridiculous dance that looked like a spider getting sprayed – I, can you repeat that?”

He laughed.

It felt sharp, but not mean.

“ _Rouquin_.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s you. - Theon said, his fingertips moving and twirling one of Robb’s curls, then he repeated, softly – _Rouquin_.”

“Ginger. - Robb nodded, almost snorted, lowering his eyes – Ginger, I get it. It’s, it’s the first thing one notices, right.”

Was it normal for French people to be  _that_ close?

“It’s pretty. - Theon tried, his accent coming across, but his voice was so sweet that Robb felt a vertigo spiking, lifting his head dizzy and electrocuting the back of his knees – How do you call this colour? Au… autumn?”

“Auburn. - Robb gulped down, eyes frenetically lowering and lifting, up and down like a pinball, the boy was at the least five centimetres taller than him, which Robb was absolutely not used to – Auburn, like… uh, to burn, umh, like, _crème brûlée_.”

Theon chuckled, “Like your cheeks, mostly.”

Okay, he was a jerk.

And that was the worst moment ever to realize jerks aroused him.

Robb stuttered his way away from that knowingly look – he definitively _knew_ he was lusting, god, god, abort mission – and shot himself towards the stairs. “I show you your room!”

Theon sucked his lips and followed.

Robb brought the luggage above in the room and put them over the bed. Theon stared at it, mildly unimpressed, but didn’t comment.

Robb gulped down, turning, glancing at his chest.

“That shirt, is, hm...”

Theon looked at him, then smiled.

“You know?”

“Hm. - Robb let out a small, quivering smile – Sure.”

Theon raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Guns n’ Roses. - he explained, in a small smirk – Music.”

“Oh! - Robb mouthed, eyes wide – Of course, I, I… knew it.”

Theon laughed.

“You don’t have to impress older boys. - he said, almost softly and yet mocking altogether – If you want to listen… - he took a portable CD player out of his rucksack, which Robb had just started to see in advertisings, on TV, but knew they couldn’t afford for sure, and some CDs – I have them.”

“You brought them all?”

Theon nodded, “I don’t think I can be without, it’s like, uh, a drug?”

“Addicting. - Robb smiled, his chipped, pointy teeth showing, and it seemed to him for a moment that Theon’s glances at him were warmer – Like cigarettes.”

Theon smirked.

“You don’t smoke.”

No, but god he liked people doing it.

The idea of Theon smoking and then breathing smoke in his face twisted his nerves up and made his cock twitch.

“You’re staring again.”

Robb lowered his face.

“What if I am?” : he would have liked to ask that, instead he just panicked and moved away.

He felt Theon’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t decode the expression.

He went to his room, burying his face in the pillow and screaming muffled.

At least it couldn’t get more awkward, could it?

 

*

 

Theon had a way with girls.

Robb had noticed quickly, maybe too quickly for his own good.

Of course, he was pretty, but it was more than that – Theon was charming, likeable, had a dark, witty sense of humour that could transpire and bleed out even through the darkness.

His accent did things too. Robb could tell by how eyebrows lifted when he started to speak.

And he would roll his eyes and groan, tempted to pout, but ending up going along with it, while Theon would spend his days getting closer to a different girl every time, and his nights slipping out from the window.

It felt almost like an honour to keep a secret. But it burned him throughout.

Kyra had the dark hair and deep eyes of a deer. Miss Miller had pillowy breasts and soft lips. Bessa had a tight butt and perky nipples. Jeyne was all legs and curves. Ros had fire threaded in her hair and Theon said in her carpet too.

He… he had a dick.

He knew that Theon wouldn’t have… really considered him.

He had also noticed how he picked always the biggest chest he could find, he stared at it hungrier and greedier than Rickon ever stared at his mum’s before a meal.

Theon was… hungry.

Hungry for being liked, being adored, being craved, being wanted.

Robb had wondered if he had a mom.

He seemed to search for that more than anything, as if by emptying himself in a girl screaming his name, he would have gotten back her milk and her caresses.

He never shared that though.

Robb had his own fucked up part, his own infected wounds he could stare right into – he had started dreaming of taking Theon. Non entirely willingly.

He had dreamt of entering in the bathroom while Theon was showering, entering in the bathtub, pressing him against the walls and sucking him off. And, after that, Theon would have wanted him, craved him, being unable to say it, but his knees would have trembled and he would have let him do it…

Robb had dreamed of bending Theon and slipping into him.

Just as he did with girls.

Just as he kept doing in front of him with anyone else.

Maybe that would have quieted the way he felt – like a green, low flame, leaped through his chest, licked his heart, burning it at every lap.

Maybe Robb would have felt better. He was not even sure.

Was it lust? Was it something deeper?

How was he supposed to know?

Lust isn’t supposed to make your stomach twist that bad, is it? Or want them to also look at you differently – like a man, not like an awkward teen? And lust doesn’t creep through walls hungrily, bleeding your wounds open because you can’t see them the morning after, opening their eyes in bed and seeing you? 

Does it?

He was losing his mind.

He was absolutely and ridiculously losing his mind.

“ _Rouquin_! - Robb flinched, turned, saw him, moving down the stairs in pale blue jeans and a black shirt with an overly decorated cross – There you were, I was searching for you.”

“Were you?”, Robb frowned.

Theon nodded, grinning, “Let’s go swim.”

“What… - Robb scoffed – It’s cold.”

“Nah, it’s going to be fun. - then he eyed between Robb’s thighs – Plus, it’s just you and me, I won’t think the _shrinked_ edition is all there is.”

Robb’s lips quivered, his jaw unlocked and his mouth trembled in a mute stutter.

Theon chortled, amused, before Robb could awake from his embarrassment, “Shrunk! Not shrinked! That’s not… even a word. Shrunk!”

Theon snorted, holding onto the wooden banister. Almost tripping on himself from laughing.

“Oh, god, you’re all red like a, uh… - he searched for the word in himself, still snorting – Red….bulb potato.”

“I’m not a beetroot!”, Robb cried, almost outraged, as he felt his cheeks going way beyond a dignified shade of pink.

“There’s nothing bad in being one. - Theon promised, raising from the knees he was bent on - I, for one, think red suits you. - he paused, moved his hands and used his damn charming smile – It, hm, brings out the blue of your eyes.”

Robb was almost angry at himself because he felt so much lighter.

God, he was such a sucker for those sweet nothings.

“Come on. - Theon winked – It’s hot, I want a swim.”

“Fine, fine. - Robb gave in, looking around – Uh, we can get the bus.”

“Splendid.”

Theon’s lips went up. He was so cocky and proud of himself.

An anchor inside Robb dragged all his ribs to the bottom of his stomach.

His heart held onto his lungs, desperately, nails scratching the thin lines, breathing getting hard.

It was going to fall.

He was going to drown.

And all he was going to miss from the surface was that damn smirk.

“...just, you and me? - Robb repeated, as if it didn’t feel true – No girls?”

Theon raised his eyebrows, “None.”

They jumped on the first bus and Theon handed him a headphone, connected to his player.

The voice came out angry and sensual all the same.

A storm.

And an appetite that couldn’t be sated. Just like his.

Theon smiled wide, closing his eyes and resting to music that Robb wouldn’t have defined soothing at all.

A glance at Theon’s hand, imitating a drum, following the rhythm.

A hand Robb wanted on him, searching for him, asking, begging for him, in his curls, as he drove through him.

He found himself staring at Theon’s jeans, at the slight hill where his cock was. He licked his lips and bit the bottom one.

He didn’t notice Theon opening one eye and stealing a glimpse of him.

 

*

 

He had spent the afternoon staring at Theon so intensely he was sure he almost consumed his eyes.

Theon had taken off his pale jeans as soon as they arrived at the white, sandy beach and he had ran in the cold, dark sea, jumping into it without a care in the world.

His shirt smelled like salt and clung to his shape, wet and splendid, just like he was.

Robb had followed slower, unsure of what to take off.

He barely had any hairs on his chest and most days he still felt so young-looking he hated that, but on the other hand the idea of taking off his pants terrified him more, because he had white briefs.

Did he want to… ?

But he couldn’t wait much, could he? He should have reached Theon.

He was swimming, coming to the surface to let out freed screams before returning down the waves.

Black, black, the sea was black as Theon’s hair.

Black, black, like the hole Robb felt in his heart.

And he had tried to convince himself to try, but he didn’t.

They just swam. And Robb had kept praying for Theon’s legs to rub his own, for Theon’s hands to cling to him, but he did nothing – except, at times, looking at him with an eager curiosity that Robb couldn’t place.

While he knew how he looked at Theon.

At the droplets of water running down his hips’ skin.

At his ass when he bent over to put his jeans back on.

At his wet hair as they slapped around when he laughed in the breeze.

Robb knew he wanted Theon.

And Theon wanted all the girls and no girl in particular.

That was all.

Robb swallowed down the bitter gulp, forcing himself not to choke on his own sadness.

He let himself drop on his bed with a sense of utter defeat.

He took off his pants, then, half-way down deciding whether to jerk off before Jon came back from summer school or put them to wash.

He frowned, feeling a piece of paper, tucked in.

_Someday you'll find someone that'll fall in love with you… but oh the time it takes when you're all alone!_

Robb stared at it. The words were familiar but he couldn’t place them.

He frowned, closed his eyes and opted for a good nap.

 

*

 

The second piece of paper came to him two days after.

Jon was in their room, hanging out with his friends Sam and Gilly, and the last thing Robb wanted was to undermine his stepbrother’s friendship efforts, so he had decided to go study elsewhere.

The smell of magnolia trees and lavender had filled their garden pretty quickly and Robb had decided, given the sunny day, that perhaps studying there, at the plastic white table, wouldn’t have been so bad.

The chair was wet with droplets of the rain of the morning, but Robb didn’t mind much.

He sat down there with his maths book and a can of irn-bru. The scent of summer stuck to him like sweat and the shaken afterglow thunders leave in the sky.

Maybe, he dared to think, it was not going to be so awful.

He liked a straight boy, big deal.

It was not going to hurt him that bad, was it?

Robb raised his eyes from the maths book, as his glance was accidentally drawn to a window.  _His_ window.

It had been his own before, but now it felt impossible to think of it as belonging to anyone but Theon. It was almost absurd.

Robb himself was not sure anymore which parts of him, which borders, which limits fully belonged to him, left untouched, and which he had given up to the hunger he felt for Theon and to the ghost of a dream of a chance with him.

His eyes widened as the scene in the room came into focus.

Kyra’s chest – her wide, prosperous boobs – squeezed by his hand. She would move her neck, twist. Theon sunk his teeth in her neck, while he played with her nipples.

They were on the bed.

Awareness thunderstruck Robb: they were fucking.

Robb wanted to move his eyes away, to run, to stop hurting himself with the sigh… but at every arched twitch in Kyra’s back, in every moan muted by the glass window, after every bite and hair pull he saw Theon perform, he found himself bewitched.

It was hot.

And wrong.

And it made his blood boil with jealousy; and arousal and anger danced in his belly, leaping flames.

He could have been there too, couldn’t have he?

Fucking Theon while he fucked her.

He could have slipped, sunk into his tight ass, he’d moan, bend, rest his back against his chest while his cock was deep in Kyra’s pussy.

Robb would have allowed it, would have accept it, understood it maybe even.

He would have been okay with sharing if that was the only way to have Theon.

How bad could it be? He wouldn’t have had to touch Kyra, right? He had no idea how to… not that it mattered, right? Theon… would have Theon kissed him?

Would he have just kissed her?

He could imagine laying down, Theon sitting over him, split in two by his cock and Kyra sitting her soft ass over him, riding him. How would have Theon felt?

Would he have liked it?

Big city bad boy that he was, he probably already had something like that? Maybe with two girls?

He remembered seeing Bessa and Kyra snicker one time. They surely would accept to share.

Were they hungry for Theon as he was?

Then who was stupider: the one who had no chance to be more than a fuck? Or the one who could be his friend but nothing in bed?

His stomach twisted when he saw them moving.

Kyra was slammed against the window, holding her hands against the wood frames of it, panting, Robb could see her mouth agape and her boobs squished against the glass. Robb laboured to chug down the nausea and his wrinkled nose.

Then his eyes focused on Theon, slamming into her.

He could see his naked chest, the necklaces dancing on it glimmered the sunlight back in his eyes, the black hair moving like waves at every thrust.

Kyra tried to muffle her screams and Theon started moving faster, rougher.

Robb felt nausea kicking back in his throat, until something else rose. Blood drummed between his thighs and he looked down.

He was hard.

Painfully hard.

His hand went to the pants and he started moving his hands, caressing his throbbing cock through the fabric, then directly, slipping inside the underwear.

He imagined moving behind Theon and fucking him hard, until his rhythm in fucking Kyra would break, he’d just fall over her, chest against her back, unable to do anything but fuck her out of the echo of Robb’s thrusts.

He would come in her but it would be from the pleasure from his ass.

She’d cry in frustration, needing more, but by then Theon would have just wanted him.

Right? Right?

He’d let him.

He wanted to pull Theon’s silky black hair, to gag him with that stupid bandanna, to fuck him weak and melted and undone. His hand moved faster and faster, chasing the image of Theon’s ass open for him.

He could imagine the sounds he would make, obscene and ashamed.

He could feel his shaft twitching, precome dripping.

Robb barely recognized his own voice when he let out a deep, low groan of pleasure.

His eyes widened and he looked at the window: they stopped.

He couldn’t see Kyra anymore, probably she was laying on the bed, and Theon was just a back, buttoning up his jeans and going out of the room maybe to take a drink or a piss.

Robb shivered and shook, realizing how close he was and he painstakingly rushed to his own room to finish himself – but once he opened the door, he glimpsed at the ground and found it, picked it up and felt his heart sink.

_I know this chick she lives down on Melrose, she ain't satisfied without some pain._

 

*

 

Theon’s English bettered quickly and steadily.

His accent still seemed to linger, liqueur and lechery, and roll off his tongue thick and dense at every girl.

And Robb.

He had noticed he was the exception.

He was  _Rouquin_ with a rolling R and a shivering Q and a wicked I. 

He was the only boy whose hair Theon played with or whom he spent alone time with. He was special, somewhat, at least he felt so.

Red, red was a good colour to be.

A colour Theon never wore, though.

Jon groaned, shaking his head, leaning on the wall, feet on the table. Robb looked at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“He is such a jerk.”

Robb shrugged, returning to stare at Theon, while he flirted in his perfect English with a soft artist-placed accent, leaning on the counter and offering drinks to the girl of the time.

“You deserve better.”, Jon pointed out.

“Whatever. - Robb mumbled – I’m okay with being just friends.”

“Tell yourself that.”, Jon replied, with a little snort.

Robb rolled his eyes back, “Can you not?”

“Please, I see how you look whenever he calls you that unpronounceable thing.”

“It’s a nickname, of course it makes me happy.”

“Whatever. - Jon mumbled – I’m just saying, Sam is into boys and he is far cuter.”

Robb glanced at him, annoyed, “Sam is a top, Jon.”

Jon raised his eyebrows, then pointed at Theon with his nose and a tilt of the head, “Are you implying that would bottom? And with a sixteen year old?”

“...a boy… can dream, okay?”

“Bah. - Jon scoffed – I bet he’s small down there.”

“He is not.”, Robb mumbled.

Jon frowned, then turned, “How do you know?”

“I stare at his pants a lot.”

“...I’m fine with being just friends, uh.”

“Don’t quote me against myself.”

“Whatever. - Jon sighed – Maybe he uses it like crap, like maybe he comes in three seconds.”

“Jon, this doesn’t help me wanting to be the one who makes him come, you know?”

“Hm.”

“Look, I… it’s a month. Just… let me live this.”

“This pain? Why?”

Robb shrugged. He didn’t know why.

Because it was  _real_ , maybe.

Because it was the first time he actually did like someone specifically.

Theon reached them at the table, but without the girl at his arm, and sat next to them, bringing them both beers and fries.

“…we can drink too?”

“It’s with a meal and theoretically I bought it. - he winked, but somehow Jon felt like it was only directed at Robb – Take it as a thank you.”

“For what?”, Jon asked, suspicious.

“ _For sure not for your ability to shut the fuck up_.”, Theon grinned, staring at Jon.

“What did he say?”

Robb flinched, smiled nervously, “Uh, for your hospitality.”

“He didn’t say that.”, Jon objected.

“I did.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“ _As you wish_. - he turned to Robb – Skinny dipping later?”

Robb’s heart climbed a mountain and jumped into the sea.

His jaw dropped, his ears were deafened by his heartbeat.

Jon snorted, thanks god, “Do you even know what that means?”

“...are you self-inviting?”

Jon looked outraged enough for Robb to wake up and regain himself, “Uh, we can go… swim after, yes.”

Theon smiled, smirked, grinned.

Cocky, smug, victorious.

The wickedness that shone on his lips, kisses-bruised and beer-wetted, called a storm of moonlight and sea bellowing in Robb’s stomach.

But he knew it made no sense.

Jon shook his head, chugging down his beer, and stood up.

“I’ll go, you two do what you want.”

Theon observed him, followed him with his eyes, almost alert, sharp. His voice rolled out quick and thick.

“What a stick in the ass.”

“...in the mud. - Robb corrected with a smile – But killjoy is more well-mannered to say.”

“Since when do I want to be well-mannered?”, Theon asked, snickering.

Robb shook his head and leaned back against the wooden wall, relaxing.

“How dared I think so?”

Theon chuckled, his fingers caressing the glass rim of the beer stein.

“Do you like Kyra?”

“Uh?”

Robb blinked, static.

Electric storms of silence pooled in his stomach and whipped his lungs still.

His lips parted, his jaw unlocked. His mouth was agape, his soul shuddered.

“No, I, why.”

Theon’s eyes shone.

“Just asking. - he sipped some bear and licked his full, dark lips, Robb remembered overhearing at school things about the colour of lips corresponding to… other parts, but he had never checked, he had never had someone he wanted to undress and check every inch of and he felt ignorant and silly and childish, then he jolted up as Theon returned to talking – I like to know when I’m right.”

Robb frowned, unsure.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go swim.”, he said, before going out in the night, where the breeze slapped them with the scent of the sea.

Robb followed, almost unable to contradict him.

He hated how bossy he could be and yet loved it all the same. It was like pepper burning on chopped, raw lips.

The burn felt good.

He wanted to follow Theon, then slam him into the wet sand, undo his trousers and take him there, in the night, where no one could see. He wanted to hear Theon moan and cry, his voice churning into creamy, wanton moans.

He wanted the obscene, the jolts, the moans made of wet steam.

He wondered how bad would it have been to just try.

Theon licked his lips.

“If you ever find a girl you like, you should tell me. - he mumbled – We could have fun.”

Robb was sure his stomach sunk beyond the deepest part of the sea.

He wanted Theon to shout and scream his name, rapture and delight, fucked balls-deep and legs holding him from behind.

His lips trembled.

He wanted to yell.

He wanted to tell him.

But he remained mute, lowered his head, clenched his fists.

Theon turned, his eyebrow raised.

Robb almost slammed against him, their chests brushed, and Robb felt his throat tight and his jeans strain. Theon chuckled, without looking at him.

The wind was shaking his hair.

His hand moved between them, cupping Robb’s cock through the pants.

Robb stiffened, he felt his shaft harden almost immediately. His eyes were nailed on Theon’s hair and ears.

It was the first time he was being touched by anyone.

And it was by Theon.

He bit his lips, afraid of ridiculing himself, and, as Theon caressed the outlines of the growing cock, Robb found himself thrusting against the palm, slow and low.

The forbidden enchantment of Theon’s scent so close to him railed and rode his veins up.

Theon’s voice seemed to hum something. A murmur, dark blue like the stormy sea.

And he moved away, leaving Robb half-hard and with a whine sewn up inside his throat.

“I’m a bit tipsy. - Theon said, but his voice didn’t slur, his eyes burned low like gleaming embers, the waves crashed against the shore far away – Don’t hold it against me.”

He put something in Robb’s back pocket, and returned to walk.

_Always hungry for somethin' that I haven't had yet. Maybe baby you got somethin' to lose, well I got somethin' for you._

Robb stared at it as if it were a magical, immeasurable thing.

A proof of some sort. A totem.

The wind slapped the paper against his thumb.

From the sea, the stormy wind rose, bringing the salt in their faces. A scent of lingering, liquid liquorice swam in his heart.

Unfed hope festered and turned him eager.

And sour.

Theon in the distance looked like all he could have never had.

 

*

 

The golden light of the dawn glimmered and glittered through the thin fabric of the curtains.

Robb stretched, yawning. Then frowned, looked down, at his sweatpants.

He was hard.

Not surprising, he knew he had dreamed of Theon.

He knew he couldn’t finish himself off next to Jon and his cock almost ached in tension, nerves alight, sweat rolling down his spine. He rushed to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself and took it out, jerking himself with fast, sharp movements.

He had overlooked.

He didn’t register.

Maybe because he didn’t want to.

The water was not rushing, the tent was pulled, the only breath loud enough was his. His own moans were liqueur filling his ears deaf.

Low and dark, but one could still hear it in there : “The...on.”

He leaned against the door, back against the knob, didn’t matter anymore, and thrusting his hips in his own hand, he came with a low, liberating groan. Pearl splattered thick on his hand and the floor, dripping then from his tip.

His heart was still drumming. Afterglow itching his ribs.

And he opened his eyes, finding the shower curtains pulled and Theon staring. At his…

Staring.

Eyes wide.

Smirk.

Pleased smirk.

Robb knew if a merciful god existed, they would have opened the ground and allowed him to be buried forever and avoid the shame that was going to hit him, growing dense and red from his neck to the tips of his ears.

“ _Rouquin_.”

“Ohffuck.”

He paled, tried to move back, hit the door – knob right in his back, a whine escaping off him – he tried to pull up his pants, but then Theon was half-out of the shower and Robb’s eyes were all over him again, on the soft skin with glimmering droplets of water, the hair like drenched silk, the perky, brown nipples and the hairs around the sternum, the ribs, the muscles. A man.

So different from the green, graceless bodies of his classmates.

It was not just the two years of difference, Robb figured, much to his resigned horror, Theon was actually really hot.

And he was hard again.

“I, uh, fuck. I’m. - his voice croaked, broke, crashed – I was searching for my like well not I mean I was not thinking about you.”

Theon blinked, pulling the shower curtain a bit more.

Robb thought it was meant as a shield.

Theon’s Adam’s apple danced up and down, jumping nervously and his voice sounded sharp and dry and constricted.

Almost …

Robb didn’t dare to hope, though his eyes almost had the courage to lower themselves towards his hips, just to chicken out at the last second.

“Could you please go _out_?”

Robb blinked, frozen.

He expected a joke. A mocking laugh. A grin.

Not that.

“ _Out_.”, Theon repeated, almost yelling. His suddenly French, distant, voice cutting through Robb’s chest and throwing his heart on a chopping board.

Would he have fed on it? Hungry as a wolf?

Or throw it in the trash? By side? Forgotten?

Robb felt like he was melting away. And yet he stayed there.

Unmoved, unmovable, unmoving.

Time felt like the pins and needles of a sleeping leg.

Theon bit his lips, wanted to shout again, but didn’t. And as his fingers seemed to slow and soften their grip on the curtain, as to give up a mask, Robb panicked, opened the door and ran out of it.

Theon sighed, heavily.

 

*

 

_I've got a tongue like a razor, a sweet switchblade knife. And I can do you favors, but then you'll do whatever I like._

Robb read and reread the piece of paper over and over again, his cheeks flushing red until they burnt and his face hurt.

He was sure now: it was one of those songs.

But what did they mean?

Was Theon mocking him?

Was it even Theon writing? Maybe it was Jon, trying to give him hope?

Maybe it was a joke. It had to be.

It must have been, right?

There was no way that Theon would have felt that way…

 

*

 

The list of things Robb would have wished not to know seemed to constantly enlarge over summer, almost daily, with a frequency he came to loathe.

Bessa had big dark nipples and loved them sucked. Theon obliged often.

Kyra’s moans would grow brittle and broken but she’d shut up right before coming. Theon seemed to know her silence as good as her sounds.

Ros would call him “daddy” with an obscene softness in the afterglow. Theon called her  _rouquine_ , at times.

Robb wanted to puke each time he passed in front of his door to eavesdrop and yet he never managed to stop.

It called him.

There was pleasure in knowing and driving the knife through his stomach.

There was pleasure in letting desire caramelize in his guts and turn bitter.

There was pleasure in the nights getting steamed only by his lonely breath echoing back to him as he jerked himself off to the sounds of before.

He had imagined Theon lying under him or riding him so desperately, so constantly that a part of him felt almost untouched when his mind forgot to. He had arrived to feeling him, as if his mind marked him enough for reality to allow him to lie to himself a bit longer.

And as August dawned towards its end, his heart bled pearls and his mouth screamed stubborn mutism.

And he’d wait for the tickets, the piece of paper and lyrics, with the mix of humiliation and hope they’d bring. 

It must have been a joke.

But it was the only thing he had, after all.

It was four am that night, when he finished. He rubbed his hand on the grey sweatpants and pulled them up a bit brutally quick, and sucked his lips. Hunger had overcome him quickly like a crescent storm and he rushed to the kitchen, barefoot, naked chest, still smelling like lust and salt.

His hair were sticky in sweat, his voice low and with the thickness of wood, and he hummed a song he knew not the title nor more than a line or two he had found written once.

He found Theon there.

Bathing in the azure moonlight, still completely dress, and yet clearly post-coitum. A coffee cup in his hand, a cigarette hill on the table next to him, a world of thoughts in his ruffled hair.

Robb felt almost like he was intruding, violating something.

Theon had behaved normally, almost avoiding any direct confrontation of the matter, after the bathroom accident, offering beers and joking, but Robb had been left with this marble thalamus of silence over his chest. It didn’t help much.

He looked back, as to make sure his parents or siblings weren’t around.

His French must had sounded awful.

“ _Do I bother you?_ ”

Theon turned, smiled, unimpressed and welcoming. As if he had known Robb was there, in the room.

Like cats do.

“You never do.”

Robb swallowed down in a raw gulp.

Something took over him.

“Before I would have had...”

Theon raised his eyebrows, curious. As if he wanted to see how far Robb would have gone from crossing the line.

Robb felt his veins tingle, his anger rise.

He hated those girls.

For no reason at all. He knew that. Except for ridiculous, senseless jealousy.

He hated that they had him and he didn’t.

He hated how easy they had it with love or lust or whatever that was by now.

Obsession? Perhaps.

“The girls.”

Theon snorted. His long hair almost danced.

Robb felt a twisted need to take off that bandanna and tie his wrists or gag him.

“They’re pretty, it’s a shame not to try them.”

“Try them? - Robb flinched – Like apples or something?”

“Did you never want to try anything? - Theon asked, his eyes thin – Almost in an animal way, in a bad way. You know you shouldn’t, that it is unkind, that it is vulgar, and yet you still… - his lips puckered, made a rose bud, then he clacked his tongue against his palate and bloomed them open – Do.”

Robb stiffened.

“Did you… try so many of them?”

“ _I've had everything that's tangible, honey, you'd be surprised…_ \- he hummed, half-singing – _I'm a sexual innuendo in this burned out paradise_.”

Robb’s anger rode his wrists.

Someone else’s words, what a convenient shield.

“A boy too?”, he asked, bluntly.

An abrupt folly had stolen the reins to his mind and the echo of his voice took even him by surprise.

Theon’s Adam’s apple ran up and down again. His heartbeat skipped and twisted.

Theon licked his upper lip, slowly, and then bit his bottom one. His eyes nailed on Robb’s.

And he moved closer.

He grabbed Robb’s cock through the pants, groping it and the balls, as if he had to weight them, without moving his glance of a millimetre. If he was blooming lying, he was the greatest actor.

The corner of his mouth twitched in a grin.

“ _I should try._ ”

Robb blinked, panicked, hardened.

He gulped down, his voice came out in a strangled groan of desire.

“You mock me.”

“You’re so stubborn. - Theon’s eyelids half descended and he bent his head, moving closer – And you talk too much.”

Robb slammed his face forward then, clashing their lips together, hungry and angry.

It rushed through him the need to have him. Greed was green and made of thunders.

He had waited enough.

He opened his mouth and forced Theon’s lips to part fully too, pushing his tongue into his mouth.

It was clumsy, sloppy, and Robb was sure Theon could taste the toothpaste from before; but he didn’t care.

His heartbeat was deafening, his eagerness blinding.

He had waited enough to go mad and nothing mattered anymore.

He put his hands at Theon’s neck, bringing him down to close the few centimetres of their height gap; and then, as he felt Theon moan low and dense against his tongue, voice melting like liqueur down their throats, Robb stopped feeling like a stupid kid.

One hand kept pressing Theon’s nape, but the other went on his hip bone, circled his waist and he pulled him close. Their cocks brushed through the fabrics and Theon’s hair and stubble tickled his face.

Robb knew then that happiness is a buzzing lightness of the head.

And the taste of coffee mattered more than the leftover scent of a woman’s perfume.

Robb’s face pressed against Theon’s, Theon’s jaw unlocked more and more, his tongue starting to follow Robb’s movements.

Robb smiled in the kiss.

It felt so intangible and yet real.

He held his breath, almost, just before searching for Theon back, over and over, their teeth clashed sometimes, his tongue slipped too far, but Theon didn’t mind – he’d frown and guide him back and search for his taste more and more.

Robb’s fingers pulled through his hair, Theon winced and moaned into it. A guttural, low noise.

And yet his hips jerked, responsive, liquid.

Welcoming, even.

Robb panted, parted, licked his lips as to catch the leftover aftertaste of Theon’s kiss.

Theon just stared at him, not fully believing, half bewildered and half bewitched.

Enchantment and doubt ride the same line and braid in his chest.

Theon dragged his eyes on Robb’s glistering kiss-swollen lips and swallowed down a dry gulp.

“I stopped talking...”, Robb said, almost absent-minded.

In the furious tumultuous still of the night, Robb pinned Theon at the wall and kissed him again. Over and over.

 

*

 

What those kisses meant, though, was not for Robb to take for granted.

Theon never said it meant anything.

Much less that it meant he would have given up seeing others or that it would have happened again.

Robb had therefore tried to impose himself a “be happy it happened” state of mind, brainwashing himself – or trying to – into being content with what he had and calm his crave.

It made sense in his head.

It didn’t really work, though.

Jealousy burnt through him, a low green flame.

And it turned him to stone.

Theon smirked, smug, at the girl, caressing her hair, playing and wrapping a curl around his finger.

Robb groaned, feeling his own heart twist around that hand.

It made him nauseated.

That summer was going to be the worst he had ever lived, he just knew.

Damn him and his gay ass getting crushes on pretty straight boys. Because he was straight, wasn’t he?

He had kissed him just to?

Or had he meant more?

He had said it was not a joke, but between a joke and honesty there is a whole sea of hurtful ‘not enough’s. 

Robb stared long, longing, and he couldn’t gain enough self-control to stop daydreaming that in the dirty night Theon would have come to him.

Even just once more.

Theon glanced at him, before kissing the girl. And he stared at him with the corner of his eyes while he did.

Jealousy burnt through him.

And it set him alight, igniting in him all the rancour and the shadows that stain the heart brittle and bitter.

Theon’s glance didn’t bulge or shiver.

And Robb would have just liked to know if he ever meant anything.

“ _Rouquin_. - Theon said, then, parting from the girl, but putting an arm around her shoulders and winking – Do me a favor.”

He wrote down on the beer bill.

“Go pay, I’ll give it back at home.”

The girl laughed and dragged Theon to the bathroom, kissing his ear furiously.

Robb flipped the bill.

_When I look into your eyes, I can see a love restrained. But darlin' when I hold you, don't you know I feel the same?_

Robb’s stomach sunk as he heard the girly laugh behind the bathroom door closing.

He wanted to rush there and pull her away by her hair and kiss Theon.

Instead, he bit his bottom lip to the pulp.

A rivulet of thick blood dripped to his chin.

 

*

 

The afternoon golden light burned warm on Theon’s body.

Robb was resting on the bed next to him. Their shirts smelled salty with sweat as August grilled them. 

Jon and Sansa had desperately asked their parents to bring them all to the seaside for the day, but Robb had declined after a quick glance exchange with Theon.

As soon as everyone left, they had rushed to Theon’s room – Robb’s old one for the matter – and made out ferociously, voraciously, like starving animals eager to taste each other’s pulse.

Theon’s bed creaked under their weight.

Robb swallowed down dry and hard feeling Theon’s arm circling him behind the neck, pulling him close.

His other hand went on Robb’s crotch and rubbed him through the denim fabric of the jeans.

Robb moaned low in Theon’s mouth, pushing his tongue further, searching for him.

Theon’s hair tickled, his little stubble scratched.

An outrageous, absurd happiness filled Robb.

He was kissing a boy, a boy he liked, a boy he loved. It was real.

And it was happening again.

Theon chuckled low, seeming almost shy.

“What are you thinking about?”, he asked, parting.

Robb lowered his eyes, tracing with his glance the line of Theon’s pecs under his thin ,cotton shirt, his abdomen, to where his cock was tensing the tight, azure jeans like a pole. His eyes glimmered on the wrists.

He would have liked to tie them, tie him.

Theon couldn’t have escaped to another girl.

Theon couldn’t have stopped him.

But… he wanted Theon to be willingly trapped by him, and that made no sense, did it?

“You.”, he admitted, croak-voiced.

Theon couldn’t hide a small smile, so different from the grins and smirks and chuckles.

It was thin, almost tender.

He looked to the side and mumbled something, his voice hoarse, “Would I be, hm… - he moved his head, almost tilting it by the side, gulped down – Your… you know.”

Robb felt his stomach clench.

Oh, god, did he really want to be honest? And seem pathetic? Would have Theon found him stupid and childish?

He was already younger! He didn’t want to be clearly also a virgin.

“Pf, no. No. No at all.”

Theon blinked, he seemed surprised.

“Uh. - he seemed embarrassed; he sat up on the bed for a moment, with a pull of the reins, and bent forward, massaging his arm, trying his best to play again a cocky smirk but it came out numb and sombrely tense – My dad he… he doesn’t think it’s exactly normal.”

Robb blinked.

Theon seemed to fear someone would hear them, despite having met when everyone was out to make out secretly, as if that would make it all sweeter.

“ _Fuck with boys_. - he said, in French, seeming for the first time actually the teenager he was – Girls, you know… they don’t feel wrong.”

Robb moved closer, putting his hands at the side of Theon’s hips, and towering him gently, “Do I feel wrong?”

Theon shook his head.

Then a nervous, elated smile pinched the corners of his lips, twitching them upwards.

“You feel like a good song.”

Robb grinned, proud.

He bit his bottom lip, breathless.

His heart started to pump damned, but somehow no blood seemed to arrive to his brain and let him think.

“...do you want to…?”

Theon snorted, chuckling, letting his head dance from one shoulder to the other, while a wild, wide smirk rose on his lips. 

“I kinda hoped to since a while.”

Robb frowned, panicking. He stared at Theon under him.

He had no idea what to do.

Theon’s chest was also going up and down, maybe he was nervous too.

Robb bowed and kissed him over the heart, sweetly.

Theon flinched, biting his lip to suffocate a winced moan.

Robb smelled him through the cotton, his hands exploring gently where the fabric rose and lowered, then he moved it so slightly, lifting it and placed his lips more on the soft pecs, on the gentle lines of the sternum. Theon muffled another sound, squeezing his stomach down, while his cock hardened in flattering anticipation.

Robb brushed his swollen lips against the nipple, just the tip, sweetly.

Theon fucking jolted under him, shivering and bucking his hips, eyes surreally wide as if he, himself, had no idea it’d feel good.

Then terror crossed Theon, “...how long will they be out.”

“All afternoon for sure. - Robb granted, but saw it didn’t calm him – If we put music on, they won’t bother nor hear us… do you want me to?”

Theon nodded quickly and Robb begrudgingly jumped off the bed and went to his old ass stereo, he passed Theon’s CDs in his hands, squinting.

“The cross one. - Theon suggested, his voice almost a flimsy breath, arousal a bit too turbid in it – From number 7 on.”

Robb obliged, suddenly welcomed by the shouting voice of that damned boy Theon dressed like – though to him Theon was a thousand times prettier.

He returned on the bed with another small jump and let out a smile.

“… can I?”

Theon snorted, “Do I have to repeat myself?”

“Until I believe it.”

“That might just take forever. - Theon commented, half-lidded eyes and smirk, while welcoming again Robb over him – If I want you to stop, I’ll let you know.”

Robb rolled his eyes back fakely annoyed and then kissed him again, pushing Theon into the mattress, forcing his jaw to unlock and pushing his tongue in. Theon moaned in agreement into his own mouth and the echo stirred Robb’s heat, his balls tensing and pulling.

It felt so different from being alone.

It was almost overwhelming.

Theon’s taste, Theon’s scent, Theon’s voice.

Theon. Theon. Theon.

Theon’s cock pressing against his thigh, Theon’s nails sinking in his back, Theon’s hips squirming under him in delight.

Theon.

His. His Theon.

Robb’s hand moved to the nipple and pulled it slightly, making Theon arch back and almost bite his tongue screaming. Robb could feel Theon’s cock twitching hard against him.

He snapped his fingers against the nipple then and he was sure Theon had opened his legs further.

He broke the kiss and ran his lips on Theon’s chest, peppering kisses and then biting, licking, sucking.

He loved the way Theon contorted, writhed, biting his mouth and yet screams and moans will inevitably come out, roll, unravelled and drenched, dripping off the bed.

Robb sucked the pale skin purple, he left the marks of his teeth, dragged his fingers on the sides of Theon’s hips, making him almost scoot, tears in his eyes, ecstasy swallowing his dignity and turning his voice into the most obscene, red series of cries.

Bandanna strawberry blond red guy could officially retire in his book: Theon was being way louder than their safety plan.

And Robb noticed, proudly, how he had never seemed vocal with girls instead.

Theon threw his head back, and Robb raised his lips from the nipple to kiss the arched neck, pulling the skin, sucking the tensed apple.

Their eyes locked.

Theon’s big lips mouthed something.

It took a moment for Robb to realize it was the words he was hearing, screaming so ungracefully.

“ _There wasn't much in this heart of mine, but there's a little left and babe you found it. It's funny how I never felt so high..._ ”

Robb felt the drumming of his heart deafening him, his own cock pulling through his trousers, desperate to hit.

He started to buck his hips, rubbing his cock against Theon’s balls and… oh, Theon’s eyes lolled back through his skull.

“Robb...”, Theon called him.

And he blinked, surprised.

“Ye-yes?”

Theon laughed, nervous, excited.

“Can we undo our pants now?”

Robb nodded, clumsily undoing his and then helping Theon who then threw a look back and moved his hands to grab something and throw it at him.

Condoms, right.

Robb was not even sure how to put on one. And he had said to Theon he had already done this stuff. 

Great. That was going to be embarrassing.

Theon observed him, grabbing then some… vaseline? And rubbing some on his aching, red shaft, pumping it harder. Robb gawked now, staring.

It was the first time he was seeing it in its full glory.

Theon smiled, lewd, as he, himself, stared at Robb’s cock, staining his briefs transparent and wet, bigger than he expected.

“...that’s also something, for a brit.”

Robb let out a strangled, hoarse noise. “Funny. - he paused, glanced at Theon’s skin, steaming in need, and to his own cock, craving action – Will I?”

“You don’t seem like you’d like the opposite.”, Theon pointed out, half-laughing, and Robb didn’t want to lie further.

He liked Theon. A lot.

But the idea of Theon fucking him was not as good as the opposite perspective at all.

He bowed and kissed Theon’s stomach, sucked the skin of the hip, passed his tongue in the navel, feeling Theon moan and pulse against him.

Theon let out a frustrated laugh, as he himself spread his ass with some other jelly, the rim way more responsive than Theon would have liked to admit.

His voice arched and hiccupped, climbing the air, as he slipped one of his own fingers inside his ass.

“Fuck. - he bit his lips – It’s hot as hell.”

Robb’s voice slipped.

“You are.”

He moved down with his mouth, kissing the soft inner thighs, Theon shivered, humping his own finger.

Theon’s cock smelled faintly like gasoline and lavender.

Robb licked the soft, dark skin, tensing under, and at the side of his erection, trying to capture and preserve the saltiness of Theon’s scent – beyond the chemistry, beyond the help, the aroma that belonged to his skin, to his flesh, to his presence itself in the universe – and he rested kisses on the shivering tensing balls, on the curly hairs, on the throbbing base of the cock.

Theon bit his lips, threw his head back more, muffling the moans as much as he could.

Robb’s eyes were wide, black with desire, the usual light blue was banished.

Lust stained him all darker, eager.

Theon’s voice twisted and twitched, higher and higher, flames leaping into his voice and climbing his throat dry and breathless, when he felt Robb slide a finger in his ass, keeping company to his own, that now seemed oh so little.

Robb took the balls in his mouth, sucking them gently, cupping them over his hot tongue, while he moved his slippery, lubed fingers inside Theon’s ass.

He felt so hot Robb was almost afraid.

The idea of putting his cock in seemed so appealing and yet he was not sure how to last in that tight, perfectly scorching hole.

Theon slid his finger out, checking it quickly before rubbing it on the sheets.

“I seem clean, but-”

Robb nodded gently while still sucking softly and substituting two of his fingers to Theon’s escaped one.

Theon cursed in delight, wide smirk on his face, hips bucking, dick throbbing against his stomach, spilling precome lazily.

Robb’s fingers widened him, stretching the rim of muscles, claiming space and filling it up.

Theon found himself pushing against Robb, riding the hand, searching for more length, for a more fulfilling feeling. As he felt the knuckles pushing against his entrance, a veil of shame rode his mind.

For a second.

And then an electric pleasure fucked through him, when Robb rubbed something, almost accidentally.

Robb blinked, bewildered and amazed.

Theon’s eyes seemed dazed, pleasure rolling down his nerves, his cock hard without being touched since minutes.

Wonderstruck, Robb moved there again, teasing, rubbing, squishing that damn point.

Theon melted, writhed, his toes curled up and his back bent and thrashed – a lewd distortion, an obscene squirm took over him.

Robb could barely even hear guitars or drums, his ears were focusing on the writhing, smallest sounds Theon was pouring, on his quivering breath, on the shivers riding his legs.

Robb used the other hand to put more vaseline on, moving harder, having to force himself to stop as he saw only his thumb was left outside of the pink rim of Theon’s ass.

Theon closed his eyes, his cock dripping by then, shamefully close, and Robb curled his fingers, rubbing more that point, seducing and tormenting sweetly the tenderest part of flesh.

He moved his mouth from sucking the balls and licked the wet cock, riding its curve with his tongue.

Theon seemed almost on the verge of tears, as he choked something similar to a sob.

“Robb… Robb.”, he called him, his lips searching for him, a soft song echoing through the room.

Robb moved and kissed, catching his mouth in his own, pressing on the soft prostate.

He could feel Theon whimpering in his own mouth, and he drank that voice and those moans down, swallowing his wanton undoing.

Theon came, spilling on their stomachs, with Robb’s tongue deep in his mouth, muffling all the high-pitched sounds he was melting in.

Theon’s eyes rolled back and Robb parted from the kiss and slid out, almost too quickly.

Theon felt vilely empty, painfully so, even.

He had come but he craved more.

Robb looked down at his own cock, at the condom by the side of their legs and he tried to breathe. It could be done. It wouldn’t be so hard.

He opened the thing and took the small latex hat in his hands, almost pushing the tip of it against the head of his cock, before realizing he was doing it wrong. He moved it, retried, tried to pull it back and it flew off, slapping him on the nose.

Theon snorted.

“You know how to use that, _don’t you_?”

Robb flushed up to the ears, “I just don’t like them.”

“Ah-a. - Theon smirked, as if he guessed – Let me put it on for you.”, he said, getting a new one.

Robb observed him, almost silently, before mumbling.

“Do we have to use one?”

“It’s in the butthole. - Theon pointed out, with a certain uneasy tenderness – Plus, it’s safer.”

Robb fidgeted, he glanced at Theon and gulped down.

Theon’s eyes shone in realization.

He moved to Robb’s cock and pumped it slowly and firmly, seeing his reactions roll down quickly. Robb frowned, clenching his eyebrows, his lips parted, he groaned, grunted, his breath quicker, his cock painfully hard in seconds.

Theon passed him the vaseline, and laid back, while still moving his hands on Robb’s thighs, almost caring.

It was his first time, wasn’t it?

Robb covered his cock in way too much lube and moved closer again.

He hesitated before putting it in, staring at the blushed pink rim of muscles.

It seemed too good to be true.

Theon moved Robb’s auburn curls back and kissed his forehead. Robb lost himself in the seagreen eyes before pushing in, thrusting slow and perfect.

Theon’s jaw dropped, his mouth agape. He didn’t even feel tore, he just felt like his whole body had swollen pleasure, stretching and loosing up to welcome that cock as if it had been made for that.

The heat burned through him inside out, igniting his nerves in bliss.

Robb forced himself to move slowly, softly, rolling his hips without haste, despite eagerness deafening his heart.

He pushed further every thrust, inch after inch, until he could be inside him fully.

Robb almost laughed, weakly.

It felt amazing.

Theon was all around him, all of him enveloped and sheathed in Theon.

Taking possession, marking.

He pushed balls-deep and Theon moaned, scooting, almost falling on himself, the voice squeaking, glass shattered by thunder, his voice tore good. Too good, even, for it to be fair.

Theon’s forehead was sweating, his hair damp but he never looked more beautiful.

Robb’s hands picked his thighs up and grabbed them tight enough to bruise them purple, as he pulled them close, and with them Theon too, closer than it felt possible, until Robb’s belly and balls would slap against Theon’s tender skin at every push and thrust.

Theon rutted, thrashed, his fingernails dug in the sheets. He groaned, finding hard to even feel his throat any longer.

Robb bit his bottom lip, trying his best to be slow, looking at Theon, trying to bring himself not to …

He was so hard, Theon was sure after he would have felt halved.

Robb kissed his neck, sucked the soft, white skin, blooming hickeys over it, dragging the purple bruises out. Theon moaned, eyes closed, lips wet.

“ _I might be a little young but honey I ain't naive_...” echoed behind them, and Robb felt all his blood boil.

He lifted Theon’s ass with his legs and bent him in two. Theon let out a welp, shocked, seeing his own dick dripping come almost above his face, and Robb’s cock pushing and thrusting into him, violently sweet.

The absurd, raw feeling of humiliation just made his nerves hotter.

He could see how wide, how loose he was, how well he was taking him.

He threw his hands at Robb’s neck and drove him closer, catching their mouths in a furious, voracious, ravenous kiss.

Robb drank Theon’s moans, rolling his hips, harder, rougher. He could feel the heat crawling into him, his cock throbbing inside Theon’s ass.

Theon’s fingers pushed through his curls, nailed him down, on the cross their hearts shared, in the furnace in which they came alive.

Robb worked his rhythm faster, slamming with ease as he found himself following his own orgasm.

He aimed then to that zone that he had seen melt Theon away in bliss, pushing his cock into it, teasing and torturing it.

Theon smiled in the kiss, elated, following the rhythm Robb had set.

Robb felt himself stuttering, groaning. Pleasure was electrocuting his precision, craving had made him rough and indelicate, but Theon didn’t seem to mind, screaming in his mouth with the lewdest thrill.

He slammed the sweet prostate over and over again, his cock-head about to spill inside Theon.

“ _Don't ever leave me… say you'll always be there..._ ”

Robb didn’t dare to hope, but he opened up his steaming blue eyes, panting with effort, driving unchaste and unchained into Theon, shoving all of his strength in each bang.

Theon looked at him too, his eyes rolled back and his spine arched, as he came.

“You’re mine.”, he grunted, voice lower than he knew it could ever be.

Theon nodded, “All yours. All yours.  _Always_ .”

Robb closed his eyes, pushing himself with new, punishing reprise and, with a rough murky moan, he came and fell on Theon.

His breath was still shaking, as the CD started over.

 

*

 

He knew summer had to end.

It was just cruel it had to end now.

Now that it felt good. Now that it was not all bitter and longings.

Theon and Robb spent their last afternoons lazily kissing and wildly fucking, with September knocking at their door, implacable and unwanted.

Robb was not sure how to digest that, what to do, how to do it: he didn’t want it to end.

Theon felt right.

And he was sure Theon felt the same, comments about commitment being a cage and love not existing aside. He stopped seeing girls since they made love.

And he called him Robb during it, madly taken over.

So, he had thought, maybe they could discuss talking long distance. They had a family computer. Maybe Robb could have worked and bought a laptop or something.

And then, the day of leaving, Theon had slipped a piece of paper in his pocket.

_But I already left you. And you're better off left behind._

A machete chopped his heart in two.

And, speechless, he stood there, as Theon went by cab to the airport.

 

*

 

Jon sighed, groaning. “Can you stop behaving like such a bitch?”

Robb frowned, annoyed.

“Excuse me?”

Jon shrugged, closing his math book. Robb had been unbearable since Theon had left, insufferable – replying badly, getting angry, voice like a whip, snapping and cutting at every side.

Jon had tried every way to bear with it but it was two weeks and he was considering homicide by then.

“Since your boyfriend left, you’re being an utter jerk, Robb.”

Robb scoffed.

“Me?”

“You.”

He bit his inner cheek and rested it on his hand. “Whatever.”

Jon rolled his eyes back, “Maybe instead of reading for the umpteenth time that damn message, you could, I don’t know, call him?”

Robb shook his head. He threw the piece of paper in his pencil case and returned to his books.

“It doesn’t make sense anyway.”

Jon’s eyebrows met.

He grabbed the piece of paper and opened it.

Robb jolted up, shocked in betrayal, trying to grab it back, but Jon was reading.

“Uh. - he mumbled – What does the rest of the song say?”

Robb blinked, confused.

“How would I know? The important part is there.”

“…yeah, clearly knowing the rest of a love song can’t help us understand if you have a chance.”, Jon mumbled, sarcastic, lifting his eyebrows.

Robb bit his lips, ashamed, curious and desperate.

“Fine. - he groaned – Let’s check, I guess.”

Jon threw himself on the keyboard and started typing, as he was way faster than Robb with computers, since he played a bunch of videogames.

After a moment finding a page and loading it, Jon slapped Robb on the arm.

“You fucking moron.”

“Hey! - Robb protested, punching him back on the arm and then shuffling him by the side, trying to see the screen – Why? What’s going on?”

“ _But I can't stop thinkin' 'bout seein' ya one more time?_ \- Jon read, dramatically with the weird tilted lopsided smile he always got when he was right, because he loved the sensation – _It's a bad obsession It's always messin' It's always messin' my mind… so bad_ …”

Robb’s jaw dropped.

“I am a fucking moron.”

“You fucking are.”

“Jon… - he asked then, half terrified – Can you do one last thing for me, please, please, please?”

Jon sighed profoundly.

And, without any other question, he wrote down in the search bar:  _plane tickets paris_ .

 


End file.
